


stormclouds

by oracular_vernacular



Series: warriors, thee and me [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Captain "Tightwad" Rex, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whump, implied clonecest, now the Seppies are getting serious, technically this just expands on the canon and doesn't actually violate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oracular_vernacular/pseuds/oracular_vernacular
Summary: Rex is starting to hate crushes. Especially when they get tangled up in his career, and the war's been taking ominous turns for the worst.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Original Female Character(s)
Series: warriors, thee and me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798318
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

His vod always has it out for him, every time they’re on leave. _Oh, Captain’s gonna stay in his office again, boys. So many requisition orders to file! Never a spare minute to have some fun!_ That was Five’s brand, which you’d think by now he’d have learned doesn’t work on Rex. Jesse makes more headway. _C’mon, sir, shouldn’t you loosen up? You don’t have to get as loose as the others, obviously. Kix would agree with me, and he’s the medic--_

Well, for once it works. 

He sits at the bar at 79’s, in his blacks, tired to the bone and knocking back a brew. Slowly. His drinks are rare enough that he knows it’ll go right to his head if he hurries. 

“Nice to see you out ‘n about for once, old boy,” Cody says from down the way. 

“We finally bullied him into it,” Fives chortles; he’s had a couple already, but that’s quite the usual for him. 

“ _Coaxed_ is what I’d call it,” Jesse says, more of a diplomat in these situations. 

“Whatever you did, you did good, boys.” Cody raises his glass. “Cheers.” Rex dutifully raises his own glass, trying not to groan-- but then his vod are all giving a cheer, a clone’s toast, and he feels a little better. 

“So, sir, what’re you getting up to while you’re on leave?” Jesse asks pleasantly. Just like that, Rex knows the door is wide open for teasing him again. 

“Not a kriffing thing if I can help it,” he replies half into his beer. “Leave’s awfully short these days. Never know when it could get interrupted.”

“Ain’t it the truth,” Fives groans. “That’s why I’m tryin’ t’get some tail ‘fore the 501st gets yanked out into battle again. But tonight’s been slim pickings.”

“Your vod not good enough for you anymore, brother?” asks Cody slyly. Clones don’t abide by the same socio-sexual norms as birthers do, of course. Fucking each other is so pedestrian that even Rex is known to do it occasionally. 

“Nah, ‘s just all you bastards look like me, and I get tired of fucking mirrors,” Fives retorts, grin heavy and quickly crumbling into a laugh that’s too big for the joke. The less lucid in the bar laugh with him; Rex just raises an eyebrow. 

“Think ya just go lookin’ for an excuse to get in trouble, trooper,” he says. “Like you’re channeling Hardcase, rest him.” 

“Rest him,” murmurs Jesse, and more murmurs of the same ripple around the bar.

“At least it’s not _real_ trouble, Captain,” adds Kix from his spot. 

“All trouble’s real trouble for ol’ Rex,” Fives interjects, clapping Rex on the shoulder roughly. “S’why he never gets crushin’ too hard. He’s married to the job.”

“Which is respectable!” Jesse’s going to bat for him tonight. Rex is already considering promoting him on merit.

“Perfectly respectable, just I think our good Captain here deserves to have a little fun, sometimes.” 

“Chasing tail ain’t everyone’s idea of fun, Fives.” Ah, Cody. Good old Cody. _Now shut the hell up, you moof-milker, before--_

“But have you ever watched him get the fuzzies before, Commander?” Fives has attained a level of mischief in his smirk that usually brings Rex proximal to socking him in the mouth. Against his better judgement, the Captain of the 501st pulls the rest of his beer in one go and slides its barren glass to the bartender. “It’s the most kriffing _beautiful_ thing you’ve ever seen!”

“Now, Fives--” 

“I remember!” Fives is about to wax poetic, and nothing short of a Seppie invasion can stop him. “Kix, you were there! Remember that one time, on that planet nobody ever heard of--”

“Kryteka Prime?” _Oh, good. We’re going there already._

“Yeah! Codes, it was amazing. Never seen our brother get that starry-eyed that fast!”

“Can I have another, please?” But the bartender is already sliding Rex his second beer, nodding with understanding. 

“Aw, Rex,” Cody says, putting his hand over his heart. “You never said anything!”

“It’s not like it mattered, that place was off the kriffing grid! Took the Seppies forever to come for us, much less you chucklefucks!” The Captain is frowning more severely than he usually does when they tease him mercilessly; his hide was thick as a bantha’s. Cody notices. 

“She was a warrior queen!” Fives is emphatic.

“It’s on the grid now,” Jesse murmurs. “You could go back.”

“To be fair, sir, she _was_ majestic,” Fives adds, putting his elbow on the bar and leaning his head in his hand. For once, his jaw-jacking isn’t just fluff, Rex realizes. It’s almost like the drunk _di’kut_ is actually sympathizing with him. “And her _shebs,_ oh boy!” He makes a very round shape with his hands. 

Once again, the moment of camaraderie is ruined in less than a nano. 

“Fives, shut the fuck up,” says Rex flatly; it’s just shy of giving an order.

“Sorry sir, I just. I never did see ya crush _that_ hard anywhere else.” 

“And you never will.”

“Rex just doesn’t go soft at the choobies for everyone like you do, Fives,” Kix chimes in, leveling a look at his brother. 

“That’s fair--”

“Wait. Kryteka Prime?” Cody’s brow has gone mountainous as he peers at them. Rex feels his guts slide a little to the left, uncertain why the Marshal Commander should suddenly be all business. 

“That’s what they called it, the Dwyrt’a who lived there.” Kix looks confused now, too. “What about it, sir?” 

“I just got a report not a cycle ago about Kryteka Prime.” 

“What about it?” Rex is at attention. Pushing his thoughts about that entire mission out of his head is something he’s very good at, but just as soon as he can’t anymore, the strange tightness in his chest comes back. Maker, crushes are awful. Is he excited or terrified?

“It’s been attacked by Seppies, apparently not for the first time. And I don’t mean the ones who came sniffing for you lot when you were there.” 

Well, that rules one of his options out very quickly.

“Wait, _why?_ ” 

“They wanted to mine it for somethin’. Ended up cracking a whole landmass from space, rather than deal with the locals.”

Rex can’t feel anything anymore. The shock has him numb. He resigned himself to not thinking about General Aven ever again a long time ago, and he was managing just fine until this precise moment.

“Did-- are there--”

“No known survivors on the planet, but also that report came by way of a signal we decoded from Hutt space, of all places.” Cody’s eyes start to soften; his brother’s frozen expression means something’s got hold of him in a way he’s not used to. “We-- the senior officers took notice because it means they’ve got something that can _do_ that. A weapon that can break a continent.”

It’s objectively terrifying, Rex knows. All of it is. The whole damn report. He’s already trying to connect the dots, figure out how in hell they’d make a gun that big, how information like that would come from Hutt space--

“Maker alive.” Jesse’s quiet, stunned. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” asks Kix.

Rex is far from alright. It’s the beginning of his leave and all he wants to do is tear into a droid battalion with his bare teeth. He’s _angry,_ fists clenching as he stands up at the bar. Not just because they always destroyed things like this. Not just because they fried civvies who had no advanced technology. But because he’d really thought the warriors he’d left there could defend themselves-- really _believed_ that, despite knowing he’d likely never find out anyway whether they lived or died. Knowing how improbable returning to that place actually was, even though he’d said to her in the language of his template, of his very bones, said _maybe we’ll see each other again--_

“Rex?” 

The world’s already tied itself in knots around him, but now it actually freezes. His spine goes rigid as though he’s seen a ghost, but he dares not turn around yet. That voice--

“R-rex, is that you?” It’s broken, ragged somehow, but hearing it again makes him turn quick as lightning. He doesn’t even notice every trooper around him staring.

It’s _her._ Wrapped in a torn cloak, dirty clothes, a bruise fading on her high cheekbone. She’s limping through the bar towards him, eyes glassy, clutching something under her rag of a covering. His heart all but stops in his chest. 

“G-general?” he stammers in disbelief. Her eyes brighten but barely, her hobbling steps picking up speed. 

“Rex,” she says again, and he can see her strain to speak. “Captain--”

But she falls, toppling to the floor of 79’s in a heap. He’s at her side instantly, turning her face towards him, but the eyes beneath her noble brow are shut. 

“Aven! _Aven!_ ” 


	2. Chapter 2

He’s been beside her for two days, waiting to see her lashes flutter open. He’s also been trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with Kryteka Prime, badgering Cody for more details. It’s not his business as he’s on leave, says the Marshal Commander, but  _ if the monarch general of the only hard-contacted people on the planet drags herself half dead into 79’s asking for him by name maybe it’s some of his kriffing business! _

General Skywalker tells him to rest and tend to his friend, reminds him that she likely can tell him a lot more than they can. So he retreats to the clone medical center, and does one of those two things dutifully. 

Tano comes by; she’s fond of Rex and has never seen him this agitated. It’s kind of her, but he can’t answer any of her curious questions, can’t hold a conversation meaningfully as he’s too distracted. She tells him to rest too, the one order he can’t seem to follow. 

Finally, on the third day, General Aven wakes up. 

“Where am I?” she asks before she even sees the Captain. 

“GAR Clone Medical Facilities,” he answers, moving his chair up closer to her bed. “You’re okay.”

“Rex?” Those strange pale eyes focus on him, blinking rapidly. “So it  _ was _ you. Thought maybe I was delirious.”

“Nah, it’s me,” he almost laughs; relief floods him. “I thought you were looking for me?” 

“I was.” She shuts her eyes for a moment against the bright, sterile light of the medical bay. “I thought you could help me.” 

“Anything,” he says, too quickly. “I mean, I owe you one, ‘o course.” 

“They’re gone,” she murmurs, voice breaking. “All of them.”

“Who?” But he knows the answer.

“Us. The Dwyrt’a. My people.” Eyes open, and tears fill them though no sob seems near to breaking over her face. “They’re dead. All of them but me.” 

“Oh,” he breathes, horror catching his chest in a vice. “Oh, no.”

“They took me to their ship. Bargained with me. Then turned their weapon on my home.” A tear runs down her face, but it’s achingly stoic. “They never meant to bargain. It was cruelty.”

“How’d you get here? How’d you find me?” He can’t help but ask what had put her at death’s door, and then at his.

“They sold me to Zygerrians, who sold me to the Hutts. I was weak, broken by grief. I should have died with my people, or died avenging them,” she almost snarls, anger boiling.

“I’ve been down there with the Zygerrian slaves, Aven. I know how they break you. Don’t be ashamed,” he says in a gentle voice. Her eyes catch him, shining, surprised. One of her small, powerful hands grips his arm. 

“You-- Rex, I--”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime. But right now you’re the one telling the story.” He puts his opposite hand over hers where it clings to him, and her grip eases a little beneath its warmth. He can’t feel the butterflies in his stomach; he’s too full of a dense, gooey longing. To help when there’s nothing to be helped.

“I finally became angry again. I listened, waited for the right whispers. The Hutts ignore their slaves when not beating them, or making them... dance.” It’s more than clear by her expression that  _ dance _ is only the polite way of putting it. Rex’s hand tightens around hers now, protective. “Once I learned I would have to find a way to a planet called Coruscant, the cradle of the Grand Army of the Republic, I found a way.” 

“Did you send that transmission Cody told me about?” He doesn’t bother to ask how she found a way. It seems obvious that it was painful, and likely bloody.

“Yes. I did not know if I would survive the journey, so I wanted to be sure something did.” She smiles, weary as a mountain. “I asked where I could find a clone Captain called Rex once I arrived here. More than one person sent me towards the bar.” 

“It’s a wonder you found me. I don’t go out much,” he says, almost laughing again. "First time in half a year I'd been down to 79's."

“A small miracle, then.”

“Or a big one.” But now he’s nervous, tightness in chest warning him not to veer too close to the feelings he’s spent so much time disengaging. It’s so much more difficult when she’s here, right  _ here _ in front of him, though. A sight he never thought he’d see again. 

“Rex. Their machine. It must be destroyed.” Her eyes have gone serious and steely, and the warrior is there in them again. 

“Luckily, I’m absolutely certain the Senate will agree with you about that.” 

“Agree about what, Captain?” It’s far too late for Rex to yank his hands guiltily away from hers when Skywalker and Kenobi enter the room, so he opts for untangling them slowly so he can stand at attention. 

“Nice to see you again, General Aven,” Skywalker says, his flirtatious manner from long ago nowhere to be seen. “I wish it were under better circumstances.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really just think Rex doesn't crush often but boy when he does... am i the only one who gets that vibe??


	3. Chapter 3

“You know, you _can_ spend your leave resting and letting someone else train her,” Cody says as he sidles up beside Rex, who’s striding with purpose through the corridors. 

“If one more kriffing person tells me to rest, I swear by Jango’s bones--”

“Alright, alright, settle down. I know you’re in no state to relax, old boy, I just worry.” 

“About me? I’m about a million times more worrisome when I’ve got nothing to focus on, Codes. You know that.”

“Fair enough.” It’s past time the Marshal Commander gave up on pestering his vod. But this time, something’s different. “How’s she doing, then?”

“Brilliantly, of course,” Rex says. For a moment his eyes seem bright again. “It’s the strategy we use that’s the learning curve, but she’s getting used to correcting herself where the old habits come in. And sometimes she’s still more used to giving orders than following them,” he adds, almost guiltily. “So we’re working on that. But she’s a crack shot.” 

Cody raises a brow, but he knows that if anyone can work on these things with diligence and creativity, it’s Rex. With or without the personal feelings. “They’re gonna offer her a commission, yanno, if she nails this mission with us.” 

Rex stops abruptly and knits his brow. “Wait-- Aven? A commission in the GAR?”

“Why not? She’s a warrior and used to be a General, s’what everybody including you says. Skywalker and Tano both vouched for her leadership during your last time together. And now she’s got no home, no family to go back to.” Cody shrugs. “Seems like a fair enough idea, assuming she earns her plastoid.”

“Surely they won’t promote her to _General,_ though?”

“Nah, probably just a trooper, maybe an ARC trooper if she’s that good. You could pick her for the 501st, if you like.” Cody’s trying to grin, just short of an elbow nudge. But he knows the Captain won’t carry on romantically with a subordinate. Or a CO. There’s something protective about that suggestion. Maybe a gentle warning, too. Having a girlfriend you see on leave is one thing, but he fears Rex is getting… attached. 

“Um,” Rex replies eloquently. “Yeah. Makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“You don’t seem very chuffed, Captain.”

“I-- well, I think it’s great, I’m just surprised.” Of course Rex thinks it’s great-- why wouldn’t he? _Why don’t I, actually?_ He tells himself it’s fear of her death. A generally unpopular fear to levy at a soldier, since it falls well within their line of duty.

“Well, now you know.” Cody eyes his longtime friend and brother, and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Go, make sure she’s fit to join up, old boy.” 

“ _‘Lek,_ ” the Captain murmurs in accord, nodding before he turns heel and continues down the hallway towards the training halls and rec rooms. The Marshal Commander watches him go for a moment, not sure what to do with a Rex whose head is in such fuzzy place. 

That fuzz vanishes clean into the air, quickly replaced by a different strain of inattention, when the Captain enters the rec room where Aven’s been pouring frustration rarely seen elsewhere into a punching bag. She turns when he enters, eyes bright, sweat beading on her white and red brow. 

“Something piss you off this morning?” he asks with a grin. 

“No more than any morning does.” She grins back and catches her breath, tugging gloves off her hands. “You’re well, Rex?”

“Oh, well as ever.” He eyes her-- they’ve fitted her with blacks just like his, except ‘fitted’ is the key term. They’re like a second skin, though she’s pulled up the sleeves. He’s flustered already, but he shoves it down. _Not right now._

“Want to spar?” she asks. Before he can shame himself into clamming up there’s suddenly an outlet for his… frustration. The grin on her face only adds to it.

“You sure?” But he’s already taken off his boots, striding towards her over the mat. 

“Would I ask if I weren’t?” 

He doesn’t give her time to anticipate him, lunging just as she ends her sentence. Her response is quick; in no time, they’re circling, pushing shoulders into one another. She’s agile, powerful-- but he’s not much slower, nor less flexible. By the third time he catches her fist in his hand, he’s figured out how to spin her in towards his chest and clamp his arms around her. She snarls, a less than human sound that fills him with heat. 

“I win,” he growls with a mile-wide smirk on his face. But then she pushes back into him, knocking off his center of gravity enough that he fumbles; like trees tied together they topple, and he loses his grip. 

“I think not, Captain!” she retorts as she spins out of his grasp and instead pins him under her powerful thighs, pinching into his ribs with them. Rex groans with the sharp sensation, reaching up, pushing against her arms as they lunge for his neck--

Before either of them knows it, they’ve got each other by the throat in a mock-hold. His heart is positively racing, the dual excitement of holding her above him by the jaw and the grip of her fingers around his waking up nerve endings he’d forgotten he had. They pant in time; her gray and white eyes pierce his. Warrior ferocity beams from them-- and something else. He can feel it in the way her thighs shake around him. 

He’s the first to drop his hold, not because he wants their tussle to end. Quite the opposite, in fact. His large hand snakes behind her neck to dig through her long, sanguine hair; the other grips her hip, and he aches from everywhere all at once. Her hand’s on his face, lids heavy over her eyes. Gently he tows her head down towards him.

“Rex,” she breathes, and the sound of it lights a fire in him. “Will you be punished if you do this?”

If he hadn’t been more aroused than he’d felt in actual years, he would’ve thanked her for her thoughtfulness. 

“ _Cyar’ika,_ I’ll be punished if I don’t,” he murmurs, and before another word can come between them he presses his lips into hers. 

It is like everything he wants has come to him, come to lay against his chest and run hands like electricity over his shoulders. Her mouth is warm and wet, full of a strange sharp taste; her hips shift against his and every motion sends out waves of desire through him--

“ _Captain Rex,_ ” comes a tinny voice over his comlink. Every muscle that was just beginning to relax in his body now tenses, and he wants to slam his fist into the damn thing where it lays on the floor. He hadn’t even noticed it slide out of his pocket during their fight. Instead, he rips his hand away from the warmth of her body to bring the device over.

“Rex here,” he half-growls into it, grateful it’s not a holo-emitter type.

“You’re wanted in the command center, sir, and Aven as well. The weapon’s been located. We’ll be mustering shortly.” She’s already off of him, pulling on her boots, a hard glint in her eyes. The warrior is back, fueled by her anger.

“I’ll report down there double-quick, and bring Aven with me,” he replies, hauling himself off the ground to follow suit. The premature death of their moment is tempered strangely by the desire to blow the Separatist abomination out of the sky; each an unsatisfying heat. Even as they hurry down the corridors, Rex feels something’s been batted out of his hands. He’s a soldier, after all, and this is war.


	4. Chapter 4

The 501st and the 212th are paired once again; this is a job for three Jedi, everyone agrees. Master Plo Koon is at the ready to supply reinforcements, in case it turns out to be a four Jedi job.

He’s with Skywalker, Aven’s with Tano. An honorary member-- temporary, as far as she knows-- of the 501st. The two squadrons split into three groups plan to converge on the command deck now that they’ve finally boarded the Seperatist warship. 

Rex can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry that she’s not right beside him. His group is attempting to sabotage the power source for the weapon while Commander Tano is clearing a path towards the command deck; General Kenobi and Cody are clearing another, splitting the attention of the droids, thinning the crowd of clankers that keeps trying to interrupt Skywalker’s sabotage. It’s a decent plan, with room for improvisation. 

They have to double back; someone’s gotten smart and mislabeled the ship’s map in code, so the first room they try once R2 hacks into the matrix isn’t the right one. The right one is ray shielded, unexpectedly. He’s lost a lot of men; every one sends a jolt of pain and anger through him still, but it’s the thing that keeps him going during battle these days. 

“Master, they’ve got Obi-Wan!” comes Tano’s high warning through the comlink. 

“What?! Where?” 

The way Skywalker jolts with fury when one of his own is in danger is catharsis for Rex, even though he’s pretty sure Jedi aren’t supposed to do that. Tano does it too, but she’s his Padiwan, so it’s hardly a surprise. Their exchange is quick. 

“Rex, I’m going after him,” the General barks. “You and your men stay here and gut this machine!”

“Yessir!” They’ve held off the enemy in the corridor outside the primary entrance, but the ray shields have been difficult to disable. Fives and Jesse are making their way around the bottomless room on crosswalks, taking out the generators one at a time, and it’s slow going fighting off clankers from every angle. Rex’s mind is racing, trying to improvise. Their air support isn’t firing on the ship anymore, obviously. He’s tempted with this new development to call in General Koon even though the strike would need to be precise, the turrets on the warship the only targets, or else they all might eat space with the wrong shot, Seppies and clones alike. He calls in the reinforcements anyway, making sure they know, hoping his Generals aren’t averse to the decision. But how long? His men are dying, he needs _something--_

"HIYA!” A cry in a high voice he knows comes from around the bend up ahead, and the dull sound of a lightsaber punctuated by the sizzle and spit of freshly cauterized steel. A popper slides from one side of the distant crossroads of corridors to the other, and the blast echoes.

It’s Tano, her men behind her, and Aven among them. She’s wildly alive, eyes bright and sharp as her teeth. She takes up a position behind the wall, looking down, waiting for more clankers to arrive.

“Commander! My men are trying to disable the ray shields, but they’ve locked her up tight!” he calls. 

“I got it!” And the Togruta is bounding behind him into the vast open space full of walkways and bridges, already deflecting blaster fire. There are other ways into the power room for the planet breaking device, and putting it in a room like that is a protection of its own kind. Perhaps a precaution, too, since who knows what powers the monstrous thing. He’s already seen the surface below, how it zaps the life out of landmasses and boils their surfaces. He tries not to think of Kryteka Prime, the majestic trees rendered into dust. 

“More coming, big ones! I need cover on my signal!” shouts Aven-- the men are already following her, nodding. 

“Aven--!” He tries to call out to her, but she’s already given the signal and darted out, a wave of cover fire around her. So Rex darts up to the clones who are watching for more from the other direction, holding the line desperately so they can reach their objective. 

Three of the shielded droids are already out with her careful roll of the droid poppers in her hand; she takes pieces of them and dodges oncoming fire while she impales clankers in range. She always did prefer the dance of melee weapons.

But they’re too close for Rex’s liking.

“Aven! Pull back, we can’t cover you!” he shouts. He’s relieved to see her follow orders and drop back without question despite more clankers rounding the corners ahead. She’s still blasting at them though, before she vaults behind cover. 

“Sir!” another voice behind him calls. “The ray shields are down!” 

“Aven, you’re with me!” Finally her eyes dart over and recognize his armor, and she’s beside him in a moment. “We’re disabling this thing _right now._ Unless you wanna argue orders like you did back on the ship?” She grins, because she can hear his grin behind his helmet. 

“Time and a place, Captain! I’m all yours.” With that, they dart across steel through thin air.

Inside the massive power room, something glows from within its cylinders. 

“We can’t shoot them, it’s a plasma that’s liable to explode,” Fives says, the quickest briefing he’s ever managed in his life. 

“Where’s the Commander?” Rex asks.

“She and Jesse are holding the upper entrance.”

“Is there a way to drain it, or shut off access to whatever’s catalyzing it?” He eyes Aven as she leans around the doorway, knocking off clankers as they trickle in from various less accessible entrances to the space. 

“Not that we can find, sir, least not from here. It’s bottled up tight.” 

Rex is thinking fast as he ever has when his comm lights up.

“Captain, we can’t reach Generals Skywalker or Kenobi,” says General Koon’s distinct voice. “Have you been able to access the power source?”

“Yessir but it’s highly volatile. No way to move it ‘cept through the weapon.”

“It’s at the center of the ship, is it not?” 

“Yessir.”

“Get your men out of there and we’ll take care of it from the outside.”

“That could take a while, sir, especially if we can’t reach the other Jedi.”

“And what if the blast takes all of our ships out as well?” Aven asks before shooting another droid off its perch and down to wherever the bottom of the chamber ends. “If it’s plasma from under Kryteka Prime, it very well could!”

_Oh, that’s what they were mining for. More fuel. Why do they need more fuel if they can already crack a planet like an eggshell?_

“Pull out, that’s an order!” And like that, he’s gone. Fives has opened a hatch on the side of one of the operator machines and is yanking out wires.

“Fives! What are you doing?” 

“This one’s wired to the front end, not the back, so we can at least keep them from--”

Something rumbles to life, and the light from inside the cylinders starts to move. 

“All units, pull out! Back to the hangars!” Rex barks into his comm. He wants to slap Fives across the back of his head, but he knows it doesn’t matter anymore. The orders are the same regardless.

The retreat is hellish; clankers just keep coming. They funnel out, not the way they came in at all. But he and Aven are in the front, and he feels her energy and relentlessness like he feels his own. She pulls troopers up onto their feet when they stumble, keeps them moving as fast as they can. 

The warship’s shields are back up by the time they reach the hangar, but there’s nothing for it. The extraction team is already inside. The two of them cover the men as they sprint for the shuttles. 

“You’re fitting in great!” he shouts at Aven while they usher their men into the hangar and pick off the opposition bearing down on them from the cover of a stack of crates. 

“I told you I was a bred warrior!” she replies, flashing another fierce grin. 

“What if they ask you to stay?” This isn’t the time or the place, but hell if he isn’t asking anyway. 

“Stay? With the army?”

“Yeah!” 

“I-- I mean-- _watch out!_ ” Her warning is barely in time for him to duck further behind cover and avoid a blast that she returns in kind. The last of the men are in sight. 

“Move! Move!” he shouts, hoping to kick their legs into doubletime with sheer force of will. They’re through, finally, and sprinting towards the finish line. 

“If I stay--” she calls, “you and I--”

Suddenly there’s a profound thud against his back, and he trips forward. 

“REX!” The scream is terrible, and hands are on him, hauling him up. Her white and red face is wild with panic, and she’s moving him more than he is. Cover fire showers around them.

“ _Cyar’ika..._ ” he groans; he barely hears the closing hatch and the roar of ion engines. 

“ _Teleta,_ please, stay with me!” 

He lifts a weak hand to touch her face, but before he reaches it, all falls dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is white when Rex opens his eyes; he knows what that means, of course. No dreams follow him to wakefulness, and it takes him a moment to dig up his last memories. 

“Greetings Captain CT-7567. It is good to see you are awake,” comes the tinny voice of a medical droid. 

“Name’s Rex,” he mutters. 

“Greetings, Captain Rex.”

“What happened to the mission? Did we get that damn Seppie ship blown up?” 

“Are you referring to the mission you were injured during?” 

“Of course I am.” _This one must be new._

“I see. Let me check the combat record.”

“Hrm.” He should be saying ‘thanks,’ but a growl is all that comes out as he shifts to sit upright. 

“It appears that your mission was a success. The Separatist warship was destroyed, however information about the weapon and its purpose and fuel source was not obtained.” 

“Right.” _So, we got ‘em, at least._

“How are you feeling?” 

“Fuzzy. Achy.” There’s a bandage around his chest, and the process of sitting up hurts a great deal more than it’s supposed to. He realizes there’s something on his nose too, something turning the air he breathes colder. 

“You were struck in the back, however it seems your armor protected you and a prompt application of bacta spray prevented the site from deteriorating further. Your rib is cracked, and your left lung collapsed. It is recovering now, but we still have you on an oxygen supply until it’s fully healed.” 

“Hurts,” he murmurs.

“Do not strain your back muscles,” the droid advises. “Allow me.” The bed makes a whirring sound as his pillow rises towards his head. He leans back against the now upright support very slowly. “I can administer a pain reliever if you would like.” 

But before he can answer, a streak of red hair passes by the window and stops, turning to look at him. His heart jumps-- he can _hear_ it on the vitals meter-- and he tries weakly to raise a hand, to call out, but he can’t speak loudly without a sharp pain in his chest. 

She’s already at the door, already coming towards him.

“Rex!” 

“Aven,” he groans through the pain; he’s not paying attention to it anymore as soon as her arms come around his neck. “ _Cyar’ika,_ are you alright?” 

“Am _I_ alright?” she laughs. “I am not the one in medical care!”

“I had to ask.” 

“You are a wonder.” She rolls her eyes through a smile, sitting on the bed beside him. Her gaze flicks down to his bandages. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive,” he says. His hand finds her face, the last thing he can remember trying to do before he passed out. “You were brilliant back there.”

“You trained me, so that is a compliment to yourself as well.” 

“Never had an easier time trainin’ anybody,” he coos. “‘Cept you’re still not used to taking orders.”

“I think I did well at that, this time.” She raises a brow. “For this mission I would once have received a new mark.” 

“Really? Where?” _So they_ are _tattoos, and symbols of rank._ “Where have you got room left?” This last might’ve been a little suggestive, but he’s a little drunk on the pain. 

"No one has ever received a mark for neutralizing an enemy starship before, so I’d have to improvise,” she replies with a smile-- but what she’s said strikes her suddenly, and her face falls. “I will be the sole bearer of such a mark.” 

“ _Cyar’ika,_ ” he murmurs gently, “maybe that is a good way to remember your people. To mark the day you avenged them.” 

He’s never seen her eyes slide up to look at him beneath her lashes like that, never felt like she was truly allowing him to see her heart. It bleeds, but his words seem to staunch the flow just a little. 

“You are right. But there is no more _lyrta,_ no more ink made from the blood of our trees--”

“Just use black ink. Plenty ‘o my vod have some. It’s not the same, I know, but maybe that suits. You’re one of us, now.” The face she makes in response confuses him, like she wants to smile but can’t. “What’s wrong? Didn’t they offer you a commission?” _Did those bastards decide she wasn’t good enough? How, after--_

“I did not accept General Skywalker’s offer,” she says, in a voice that’s low and guilty and so, so sad. Something twists inside him, uncertain if this is good or bad. _You weren’t sure it was a good idea before, anyway._

“So, you’re not joining the GAR?” 

“No.” 

“But you... you’re at least staying on Coruscant, aren’t you?” He already knows the answer, though. Someone so restless and wild would never take up some fiddling job, repairing shuttles or somesuch, and wait for him to come back from battle. No, she was not made to be his on-leave girlfriend. She holds his eyes for a moment. 

“Some of my people were taken by the Separatists. The scouts who saw them first, before they reached me. The small portion of the ship’s logs obtained by Skywalker’s droid suggest they were sold, just as I was. I suppose our _exotic_ species would fetch a price.” The scorn in her expression is visceral for just a moment, but it hardens into resignation, to earnestness. “I have to find them, Rex. I have to free them. I cannot leave my people to die.” 

“And when you do?” He’s cold all of a sudden, empty.

“We will find someplace to call home. I know not where.”

The pause is heavy, clotted with his bereavement and maybe hers as well. But he knows how she feels. Knows, because he’s done it before. Left her behind because he can’t abandon his duty. Left a great many things because of what he is, and what he serves. Her eyes drop away to look through the fabric of the bedclothes into nothing.

“You could come back here,” he murmurs. Now her eyes shut entirely, and her hand comes up to wrap around his wrist where he still holds her cheek. She’s leaving, and he can’t let go, and she doesn’t want him to and _oh, Maker, this. This is why I never do this._ The one thing he’ll do for certain, the only balm on his wound, is that he’ll go back to his vod. Back to his brothers, back to combat, the things he knows best. This? He doesn't know, cannot strategize against this. Cannot hold her duty against her, because it’s the only thing that holds him together sometimes, too.

“I… I don’t know, Rex. I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t even know if they’re still alive or not, but I have to try.” At this last she looks back up at him. No tears are in her eyes, just like there are no tears in his. 

“I understand.” 

“I know.” Her thumb strokes his hand and she leans into his big, warm palm. “I am... grateful, for you, _teleta._ You have given me more than I can repay.”

“You saved my squad once, so we’re even,” he tells her as he tries to smile. She tries to smile back, and reaches out to pull his face close. He leans his forehead on hers and feels himself grow heavy with grief. 

“I leave today,” she says softly. “I was hoping, praying you would not be awake. I hate goodbyes.” 

“I’m not fond of ‘em either.” 

“ _Dwyr teleta som, aityr bid twytha._ ” He can almost remember the first time he heard those words. “ _Som byrta, ai kyter’eth,_ ” she adds. Unlike the last time, he doesn’t want to know what they mean. It’s better to let them mean what he needs them to, in that moment.

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , _cyar'ika,_ ” he replied, echoing his first response, which feels even more unlikely this time. The next part comes through a vice that clamps down on his throat around the words. “ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum._ ” 

It’s better to let them mean what she needs them to.

Like a vision already half-faded into dream, she stands. His hand falls from her face, but hers lingers on him just as her eyes do.

And then she turns to leave, and does not look back.


End file.
